JOKES OF CLOUDS Sailed clouds in the sky, four pieces of clouds; from first to third were people; the fourth was a camel. At these, curiously he joined the street a fifth; from it, in the lap of the blue sky an elephant pulled away behind another. And I do not know if he frightened the sixth, suddenly the clouds …
Read More »JUAN GRIS (1887/1927), PAINTER SPANISH: Comics and paintings, chatting with Matisse and Braque, Leger, Modigliani and Picasso
MEXICO, WEST COAST OF THE GULF: lagoons, marshes and sand
Welcome to the west coast of the Gulf of Mexico, between lagoons, swamps and sand, into a treasure trove of lush vegetation. Few hotels and many Mexicans, good sign for us, because we – as they do – enjoy exquisite seafood. In the southern part of this coast, he had developed the Olmec culture, so, if you love archeology, we …
Read More »ISLE OF PAXOS: Greece in peace, between tiny coves and olive trees
Green, green and leafy, this is the surprise that offers this Ionian island. Not by chance – according to mythology – the island was created by Poseidon for his beloved. Walking Gaios, a few steps from the port, there is the small beach surrounded by pretty houses, all with flower-filled balconies. Can we stop a little in one of the …
Read More »JACOB JORDAENS (1593/1678), FLEMISH PAINTER: Love for domestic atmospheres, the regret for Italy ever seen
THE END: Poetry, by David Herbert Lawrence
THE END If I could hold you in my heart,  if only I could wrap you in me,  As I would be happy!  But now the memory card before  once again I unrolled the course  of our journey so far, here where we part. And to say that you’ve never, ever been  some your reality, my love,  and never …
Read More »YOU SHOULD NOT KNOW THE DESPAIR: Poetry of Emily Jane Bronte (1818/1848)
YOU SHOULD NOT KNOW THE DESPAIR Should not you know despair if the stars sparkle every night; If the dew falls silent at night and the sun gilds the morning. Should not you know despair, although the tears to flow in rivers: are not the most favorite years forever in your heart? Cry, you cry, so it must be; The …
Read More »I CAN NOT EXIST WITHOUT YOU: Poetry of John Keats (1785/1821)
I CAN NOT EXIST WITHOUT YOU I can not exist without you. I forget about everything but to see you: my life seems to stop there, I look ahead. You’ve me absorbed. Â Right now I have a feeling as to dissolve: Â I would be very sad without hope to see you soon. Â I’d be afraid to break away from …
Read More »CASPAR DAVID FRIEDRICH (1774/1840), GERMAN ARTIST: Artist of the landscapes of the soul, his eyes caught the light of God
WILLIAM-ADOLPHE BOUGUERAU (1825) 1905), FRENCH PAINTER: Romanticism and neo-realism, in a painting style perfect
HALLUCINATION: Poetry of Bai Yuchan
HALLUCINATION He invaded my house, passed the gate of the courtyard, went through the cracks destination. Then, standing, alive, in the middle of the courtyard, he explains the truth of this beautiful cock I chuckled, she has much still to be clarified. This newborn piglet is wonderful, I giggled as before. She still takes me back: these flowers are really …
Read More »MEXICO, THE PACIFIC COAST: Endless beaches, embraced by a mild climate, even in winter
Not only tourists coming from the United States, but from all over the world. The sport of sailing and surfing, underwater fishing and comfort, not only have the name of Acapulco, but also to Puerto Vallarta and any place of Baja California. Arid deserts with cacti and steppe accompany your path, but you never forget that you are surrounded by …
Read More »CLAUDE MONET (1840/1926), FRENCH PAINTER: Eyes open to nature, the colors and the heart to love it
LAND OF SPARROWS: Poetry of Nazih Abu ‘Afash
LAND OF SPARROWS Maybe you think: this is a dark red flower flowing on the rock, these forms aggregates at the edges of the trenches are shepherds doze. The earth, as he depicted the brush of God, it is a field ready for plowing, for wheat, the walks, the songs. Maybe you think, does not know, how could he know …
Read More »HEART: Poetry of Margaret Atwood
HEART Some sell their blood. You will sell the heart. Either that or the soul. The hard part is to pull out the damn thing. A kind of spiral movement, like an oyster shell, your spine a pulse, and then, hey presto! It is in your mouth. Nearly you put yourself in turmoil, like un’attinia ejecting a stone. There is …
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